


After All This Time

by The_Madness_Within



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship/Love, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3088262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Madness_Within/pseuds/The_Madness_Within
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew where to go – even through the blanket of white – the path was etched into his soul. Nine thirty, beneath the old oak tree, as was promised every year before and, as he hoped dearly, every year to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After All This Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very old fic transfered - and editted slightly - from the fanfic account I had back in the day. I apologise if it's kinda shit or mislabled because I'm still getting my head round this website, but I still hope you enjoy it and would love to hear your thoughts.

Severus shivered, clutching his arms around himself and trudging his way through the mounting snow. His father had returned from the pub at seven – five hours earlier than he had ever dared to exploit on any given Christmas eve in the past fifteen years – dragging behind himself his alcoholically impaired limbs and the foul stench of beer, cigarettes and vomit. One might have though that any normal child would rejoice at the concept of an extra few hours with their father, who laboured long and hard in the factory and rarely returned before nightfall, but to the young wizard of Spinner's End it only meant five more hours of arguing and five more hours for the old man to sober up and resume life as his usual abusive self.

At almost nine o'clock, the boy had slipped from the house, to the treacherous sound of smashing plates, of screams, of his mother's weeping, and proceeded into the darkness. He knew where to go – even through the blanket of white – the path was etched into his soul. Nine thirty, beneath the old oak tree, as was promised every year before and, as he hoped dearly, every year to come.

And now he marched, numbed by the cold and blinded the relentless snow, down the labyrinth of roads and to the foot of the concrete jungle, where the city of Cokeworth met nature, in the form of a winding river. Sometime in the day, the river had frozen over; the wild, murky waters held serene in the winter night's air, dusted with white and glittering as the light of the street lamps fell upon it's surface. Never before, in his eyes, had the district seemed so perfect, pristine, innocent, as Jack Frost glazed with icing the crude maladies of the city as if they had never once appeared.

Severus leant against the broad back of the tree, sheltering somewhat from the blowing winds and the softly hammering snow. Seventeen minutes he had to wait, screwed in bitter cold, though anything was better than staying at home when his father on a rampage, as much as it feared him to think that he might one day return the bloodied corpse of his mother on kitchen floor.

X

A trepid sigh quivered upon his lips and curled, like dragon smoke, into the air. Already an hour had transpired and Lily had not yet appeared, leaving him nestled in the snowy trench he had made for himself, lonely tears frozen to his face. He had once or twice believed he had seen her skipping through the snow toward him, though, much to his dismay, it was simply dog walker or a drunkard.

"BOO!" the girl giggled, leaping from behind the oak and sending a startled shiver through the young wizards body. "Sorry I wasn't here earlier: Auntie Cat just talks and talks and talks – you'd think someone would've put a silencing charm on her by now."

"Stupid, ugly Muggle," Severus grumbled.

"Don't be so rude, Sev! You haven't even met her. Oh, she's the most beautiful and glamorous woman in the world," the witch mused, eyes glimmering with innocent admiration as she cosied herself beside him. "She's a lawyer all the way in New York. She says it's beautiful – the lights, the colours. Someday, I want to be like that."

His lips pursed and he gazed to his feet. "You don't need to be like her," he muttered downward, cheeks flourishing themselves a delicate rose. "You're the prettiest, cleverest girl I know."

"You're silly," she chuckled, "you don't know many other girls, so it isn't saying much."

"But it's true!"

Lily merely shook her head and smirked, removing from her backpack a thick, woollen scarf – which she wrapped around his bare neck – and a flask.

"Come on," she said, removing the shiny, blue cap, "you must be freezing."

Severus watched as the redhead filled a cup with steaming, brown liquid and handed it to him, producing a scent so sweet, so delicious, it could calm the sorest of tempers and remove the wildest of qualms; he was certain, that if poured by any other, the taste would be far cooler, empty, free of the lustre that accompanied her presence. From that moment forward, a friendly silence encompassed the pair; the snowfall had begun the thin and, through outstretched arms of the old oak aloft their heads, quaint patches of glittering stars became apparent, the occasional glimpse of the pearly moon.

The young witch closed her yes and smiled into the air above her, "What do you wish for this Christmas?"

"The same as always: new parents, a crocodile," he mumbled, resting his eyes upon her soft skin and her fiery hair, "to spend the day with you."

She enclosed her mittened hand around his pink fingers and sighed, "You know it doesn't work like that."

"And what if it did?"

"Then you'd have new parents and a crocodile and we'd spend _every_ Christmas together."

The wizard of Spinner's End heaved long and deep. Indeed, if the world worked like that, he would certainly ask for eternity with Lily Evans, for that was all he truly wished for.

X

The Potions Master pulled his head from the silver water that swirled in the pensive and wept. Within the year, his perfection had ceased to speak with him; before school ended, she was snatched away by the man he hated most in the world; in eight years, she was dead. The worst part was trying to forget her, the only person he had ever loved, ever would: the flick of her hair, the warmth of her smile, the numbing cold of her lifeless body. And, after all that time, she had never even known.


End file.
